Not Even Me
by Cezille07
Summary: Sequel to "The Full Force of Time": There was only one truth now in Doofenshmirtz's world, and it was that he was finally, truly alone. By his side, Vanessa was helpless, unable to do anything, that is, until she sees Perry will never be really gone.
1. Feather Touch

**Not Even Me**

_Cezille07_

A/N: Hello everyone! I'd like to take this opportunity thank y'all again for the success of "The Full Force of Time." Thanks for all the feedback (and tears), and for prodding me to do a sequel. ^^

I've never really done a sequel in my life for two reasons: One, I get tired of a plot after being so absorbed in it, and move on to other fanfic ideas before I even draft a complete outline. (Besides, the original plot more or less contains all the emotional stuff I want in it anyway.) Two, well...no one's ever _asked_. ;)

Now that that issue's covered, I'd like to remind people that sequels aren't a _look-back_ on the previous storyline, not a reiteration, but a _continuation_. I realize I did leave a lot of hanging questions last time. For one, Monogram won't stop until Doof, who he believes _killed_ Perry, is legally apprehended; so what drastic measures is he gonna take? What will Vanessa do about Monogram...and for her mourning father? What about Phineas and Ferb? We never got to find out how they dealt with permanently losing Perry. And Perry...has he really left his nemesis...or perhaps even Time can never break them apart? ;D

Disclaimer: "Phineas and Ferb" (and all related characters, trademarks, etc) belong to Disney. "The Full Force of Time," however, is mine. ;D

* * *

Chapter 1. Feather Touch.

Afraid?

He had never been afraid. Not counting, of course, the handful of times Heinz actually came close to endangering the boys. No, there were only a couple of instances when anxiety—and he still denied the term "fear"—gripped him:

The first time happened years ago. For all the blocking out he did to focus on his job, the details couldn't elude him. His father had taken him that spring morning to the riverbank. The whole forest was alive with color and sound, and various other species kept greeting them a happy spring. It was about his second spring alive, he mused as his father discussed the difference between good worms and bad worms.

"_Focus, Perry,__"__ his father said. __"__You_'_re going to do this without me and survive, eventually.__"_

"_I_'_m listening, dad," Perry answered bitterly. He had never liked having his parents tell him about life being short, about someday fending for himself and for his two sisters. He briefly wondered what they were doing at home. _

"_Alright. Now observe this earthworm, see how—__"_

_Then a piercing scream cut through the air; an eye_'_s blink and they both raced back to the burrow. Perry peeked through the last bush at the streamers hanging at the entrance. A pastry scent, much like...a cake_'_s, wafted toward him. What was going on? A party?_

_...His first birthday!_

_But his father was suddenly gripping his shoulders. __"__Get back to the river, swim as far as you can downstream, and never look back,_"_ he said. _

"_Why?__"__ asked the young platypus, but before he was answered, his father pushed him towards the river and charged at two humans pointing guns at his mother. Perry didn_'_t know what guns were, then, but the sound of that one bang, and the sudden streak of warm, dark red blood on his father's chest, scared him enough to obey the ambiguous request. _

_No one mentioned that when he came home hours later, utterly exhausted and worried about what he had witnessed, that only the ruined burrow and his family_'_s blood spattered all over would greet him. _

* * *

The second instance...happened just now, as he watched Doofenshmirtz embracing his lifeless body.

* * *

"C-curse you..."

It rolled right out of his tongue, like he'd intended. With difficulty, true, but it was all he needed to start.

"Curse you," he repeated. He inhaled, closed his eyes, and shouted, "Curse you!"

The words echoed in the hall lit only by a faded moon. Heinz felt himself tremble, but biting his lip, he ignored the shaking and went on to cry one more time, "Curse you...Perry the platypus."

Finally, his knees gave way, and he fell into a crumpled sit. "Perry the platypus..." he whispered. Two more tears dripped off his long nose, into a drying puddle. Now the room felt intensely quiet. He needed to scream again, to remind himself that he was still alive somehow, just alone...again.

"...You're unfair."

Without loosening his hold on the platypus still in his arms, he lay down on the purple-carpeted floor of his living room. Another set of droplets for the tear puddle about him. Doofenshmirtz ran his fingers along the short length of Perry's static body, shivering as he did so. Goosebumps suddenly covered him.

Sure, it had only been fourteen hours. It just hadn't sunken in yet. Every part of him wanted to throw this fake doll outside the window. He had been holding it for over half a day; right then, in the eerie stillness of two in the morning, the object looked very real, so believable. It just might be Perry, but his entire being simply rejected the idea.

_Perry can't be dead._

Perry the platypus didn't just leave the scene like this, after making him feel so human, his entire emotion set fully functional: excitement, shame, fear, appreciation, friendship. How did a platypus do that? How _could_ a platypus do that?

Heinz, still with a violent shudder, sat up again and gazed at Perry. He looked just like he was asleep. Peaceful.

"Curse you...how dare you leave me alone?"

* * *

There was a scream from somewhere shockingly close. Vanessa's eyes shot open, her chest rising and falling quickly. She glanced at her bedside table where her iPod sat charging. It only needed a slight press on the Home button to show her the time. Two in the morning. Groaning, she realized that the scream that woke her up was her own.

It was a terrible nightmare, and not the first one that night. All of them had contained Perry by far.

"Vanessa, honey, are you alright?" Charlene appeared behind Vanessa's unlocked bedroom door. She rubbed sleepiness off her eyes and studied her daughter's quick breathing. "A bad dream?"

"Yeah," replied Vanessa as she unplugged her iPod charger. She had left it running since they arrived home before supper. "I'm, uhh, sorry I woke you up."

"Oh honey, never mind that. Would you like me to get you a glass of water, dear?"

"No, thanks." Vanessa looked at her mother and sighed. "I'm okay." Her arm mechanically grabbed a picture from under her pillow; it was one of her earlier birthday parties, where she and her father were together, albeit with some resentment on her part at the time. Charlene saw either that motion, or her daughter's suddenly sentimental face, that she left without another word.

Vanessa pulled the covers over her head and curled up, staring at that photo. She was barely seven years old then, wearing a striped party hat and a helium balloon. Behind her stood Heinz, holding her shoulders proudly. She had seen him display stronger, happier smiles, most of them in the middle of an evil scheme at DEI. However, something about this pose reminded her of every failed birthday party, and every failed birthday party reminded her of the only successful one.

Which brought her mind back to Perry.

She emerged from under the covers and allowed her eyes to adjust. Once she was certain Charlene was asleep, she crept downstairs to sneak a phone call to someone else who needed to stop thinking about the platypus.

* * *

He had been so at peace with the world. There was nothing but the warmest feather touch of a blanket—every sensory percept was shut down except for this immense happiness, this permanent embrace. For what felt like eternity, he could but savor the pulsing joy of the experience.

And it all ended with a telephone ring.

His eyes jolted open, and though his every power tried to scream, no sound came from him. If he moved, the motion was sluggish and rigid. Afraid? Yes, Perry was afraid. He didn't understand what was happening...what _happened_...to him.

But then the blanket would calm him again. He looked up to see Heinz still crying, and shivering quite violently, with a lifeless platypus in the threshold of his arms.

* * *

A/N: As you can see, we've still got a ton of drama comin' up ahead, so don't go anywhere! Please leave a review and tell me what you think so far. :D


	2. Brute Force

**Not Even Me**

_Cezille07_

A/N: And now for the story's conflict.

* * *

Chapter 2. Brute Force.

At first it was blurred, the image that greeted his eyes. Then he blinked, twice, thrice—and finally, his office swam into view. He had been propped onto three adjacent file drawers, covered in thin white sheets which used to be the room's curtains. Groaning, Monogram sat up and rubbed his forehead.

"Carl! Where are you? Why didn't you at least get a throw pillow?"

The intern entered with a sack of shredded documents. "Sorry, sir, I wasn't finished making this," he said, showing the poorly crafted handiwork.

Major Monogram rolled his eyes. He got to his feet, looking more composed now, before throwing a disgusted glance at the makeshift bed he had laid on. It was surely for the best, he thought indignantly; if he were brought to a hospital in his uniform, people would wonder—and curiosity was an enemy to such a secret organization as the OWCA. At least Carl always tried to make their independence from public services bearable...by fitting into every known profession almost flawlessly. Or so he tried. That was good enough.

"So, Major," began the intern, "what are we going to do about Dr. Doofenshmirtz?"

"Yes, the Doof," Monogram repeated, picking absently at his moustache. It was the Doof's daughter who had knocked him out cold, the reason for his unconsciousness for—how long had it been? "What time is it, Carl?" he asked, forgetting a digital clock hung above his desk. Carl rolled up his sleeve and checked his watch.

"It's two in the morning, sir."

"Two! It's been...fourteen hours?" he calculated. "Who knew the young Doofenshmirtz lady had powerful martial arts skills up her sleeve?" _Heh, definitely not her father_, he scoffed silently. "I can't believe she's on his side now." The intern nodded in agreement, and Monogram took the cue to quit complaining.

But Perry posed a more serious question. The surveillance videos all concluded that he was kidnapped past noon, and yet when their team arrived hours later, the platypus was still in the enemy's territory. In the enemy's _arms!_ He could so easily have roughed up the doctor and returned to his quiet life, but he didn't. That meant Agent P—no, just "Perry" now after his rather forcible resignation—had become evil too. It was the only plausible reason. Doofenshmirtz was definitely becoming a bigger threat, a more obnoxious headache.

"Let's get some rest for now," Monogram said absently. He took a last look at his three connected file drawers and subconsciously rubbed his aching back. _Agent P had acted irrationally by choosing to stay with the Doof_. "At dawn, I need you to assemble all the agents at the conference room for a special meeting."

Carl gulped. "All of them, sir?"

"The enemy has a strong ally now. His daughter."

"We don't need to bring her into this—"

"She got herself into this, and we must put a stop to it before it gets further out of hand!" Monogram thundered, suppressing the next mouthful of objections from his subordinate. "More serious tactics and all our forces are in order to do away with the _evil_ Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz...permanently."

* * *

On an ordinary day, gossamer threads of white hot sunlight peered through the foliage on the sole tree of that backyard. Often, that place was filled with the laughter and planning of at least two children, and, often, suns rose and set over victory for these youths. Splayed across different lifetimes, or only different summers, perhaps...every day was a chronicle of childlike wonder and euphoria.

This would be the first morning Perry spent away from that backyard. He walked the silent halls of Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated, allowing his senses to pick up as much as they could; the world suddenly felt brighter, more beautiful, more vibrant with sounds and sights he hadn't noticed the last time he was there. And with a ghostly chatter Perry cursed that everything looked better that way. All this _life_ wasn't here yesterday. Yesterday had been a landslide of clogged-up insecurities: He learned that Phineas and Ferb wanted to get rid of him. Monogram? He'd always known the major to be capable of anything good for the agency—and anything equally selfish. Doofenshmirtz was right... By far, the evil scientist had been the only right thing that happened yesterday.

And today...today was just empty. As empty as these halls of soiled, purple wallpaper. Perry felt it, the pain as real and solid as a blow of crushing metal against flesh. The world had no right to be so beautiful, not when the man who gave his life meaning was too shaken. Not when he could do nothing for his nemesis, who simply refused to move, so he could remain enfolding his empty body.

Perry knew what he was going to do today. He had no idea how to, but he needed to stop Heinz from crying.

* * *

It was the only way he was going to feel better.

_Go back to the routine. _

The phrase just popped into his head. _Go back to the routine!_ What a preposterous idea! The only constant routine he had was Perry the platypus. But three seconds later, the strength just came to him. He finally got to his feet and approached the recliner. Stroking Perry's clean turquoise fur, Doofenshmirtz set him down carefully and left for his Inator closet.

There would surely be a block of uncut metal there large enough for today's trap. By the northeast corner sat two slabs of pure silver, both roughly one by three feet in size, half a ruler in thickness. Silver was good material, but these pieces were too small, and they were difficult to mold anyway. A solidified mercury alloy was jammed inside the Gloominator; it too did not meet the size requirement. He frowned, placing his hands on his waist as he surveyed the mountains of trash and non-operational inventions, until a gleam of clean metal from the far corner of the room caught his eye.

It was perfect.

Then he sought Norm. The giant robot man had stopped functioning a couple of years ago. But he still had a good blowtorch hidden in his right arm. The doctor yanked it out, the action causing electric sparks to fly at him. The wires were worn thin and outright ripped open in areas. Nothing that can't be fixed with a little determination.

Then glass, a big round piece of clear glass.

A good knife.

Lace, satin and silk. Cotton.

"As always, your timing is remarkable, eh, Perry the platypus? And by remarkable...of course I mean unremarkable," he cackled when he returned to the living room. He dropped the collected items before him, grinning widely at the work he was about to commence. "I hadn't had time to make a trap, but worry not; I'll finish this soon enough," said Doofenshmirtz. "You won't escape this time for sure," he sobbed, "You won't need to."

* * *

There was the sound of wings beating outside the window, the rustling of fallen leaves and fresh grass against each other; not so much of the traffic below. Living on a hillside house, with no roads stretching for at least a quarter mile, meant silent awakenings on most days, with a few exceptions: when Charitable Charities came by to pick up old clothes, and when she, Charlene, had to drag off her reluctant daughter back to the busy streets of Danville, for a weekend with her father.

Today was evidently not one of those mornings.

"What are you talking about? I'm right here, Dad! I'm right _here_!"

Charlene sat bolt upright when she heard the yelling downstairs. Her hands automatically reached for her glasses on the bedside table, and she wondered if Heinz was actually downstairs. No sooner than she finished the thought, her door bust open, and in came a heavily sobbing Vanessa.

"Vanessa, what happened?" asked Charlene. Her daughter ran to her and planted herself in a curious mother's embrace. "Honey, is there something you need to tell me?"

The fits of sobbing had the better of Vanessa; she could not respond further than sharp intakes of breath.

"Vanessa, did something happen at your father's while I was away?" Even as she said it, Charlene knew the question was pointless. Years and years have gone, and the personal wall Vanessa built only inched higher towards infinity; no one could scale this wall. Charlene kept asking "How was your day at school?", "Did you enjoy your weekend?", "Would you like to go shopping with me?" and other such questions only because the quiet void was sometimes unbearably thick.

But the teenager began, "He said..." And at this, Charlene felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She stroked her daughter's silky brown hair, "I'm listening."

This seemed to relax Vanessa. She let out a slow breath and continued, "He said I wasn't his family...!"

* * *

Pain for pain, and for such a worthless reason...

_It was crazed hysteria that Perry almost mistook for passion, filling the entire room while Heinz hammered at the block of metal, the sound high and tinny, the effort obviously draining. "You'll like my new trap, Perry," the doctor said, for the third time, though he was certainly unaware he ever said such a thing. _

_The platypus had had enough. _I can't watch you do this to yourself, Heinz. I love you too much to see you suffer._ The phone rang, as it had been ringing since past midnight, in vain: But Doofenshmirtz was completely impervious to the high-pitched, analog ring. Either that or he had devoted all his mind to never letting his eyes leave Perry's unmoving body, and wishing there were some way..._

_This was the only way indeed; he did start to feel alive again. He pounded and carved and molded the metallic object according to an innate design, a design dictated by an intrinsic command: it must be nothing less than the most beautiful, platypus-sized—_

_The phone rang again!_

Again!

_Heinz flung the hammer towards the phone, but missed: He made a full-fledged growl and flew towards the unwelcome source of the noise. He picked the receiver up with two trembling hands, yelling, "WHY HAVE YOU BEEN CALLING ALL NIGHT? AND NOW ALL MORNING! You didn't get the hint that I don't need people barging into my privacy when I never answered your first prank call, did you? I'm in the middle of a crisis; my only family just left me... So don't think of dialling this number again, you hear me?"_

"_But..." came the caller's first word, and something dropped into the pit of the doctor's stomach—the voice was familiar. "What are you talking about? I'm right here, Dad! I'm right _here_!"_

_The busy tone sounded immediately. It was Vanessa! Now Heinz understood why it was more aggravating than the unanswered ring... _

* * *

"Oh, honey. That's ridiculous. He probably didn't realize right away that it was you. Your father loves you very much, you know that." Charlene sought Vanessa's eyes and offered a smile. "Now, it's still a bit early; go back to bed and I'll make you some breakfast. No more nightmares."

"What?" Vanessa abruptly pulled back. "Nightmares? I wasn't talking about a nightmare—"

"It's okay, I understand. You don't have to hide these sleeping problems." Though visibly perplexed, Charlene maintained the worried smile. "It happens to everyone, once in a while—"

"Uhh, _Mom_, I'm not _kidding_. I called Dad because he was depressed and all that his friend, that platypus secret agent I keep telling you about, died yesterday—why're you looking at me like that?"

"Secret agent?" repeated Charlene, stifling a sorry laugh. She beheld her daughter quizzically. "Honey, if this is about your father's evil again, let it go. It was just a dream—"

"You're not listening to me! You _never_ listen to me! Geez!" Vanessa turned back, and mouthed a curse. "I don't think you'll get the point that I have never, in my career, lied about anything Dad has been up to."

Her mother only returned a what-are-you-talking-about look.

"I know sometimes you wish you had a break from my antics," said Vanessa. "The feeling's mutual," she added before heading to her room to pack her clothes again.

* * *

A/N: The disbelieving-mom sickness strikes again. I'm sorry, Vanessa, but both your parents can't understand now...yet.

Up next: What 'trap' had Doofenshmirtz prepared just for Perry?

(It won't take as long as this one, promise! xD )


	3. Trapped

**Not Even Me**

_Cezille07_

* * *

Chapter 3. Trapped.

_Nothing I can do._

At first, Vanessa was the picture of determination. She made sure Charlene saw her through the window when she walked right outside with nothing on her, not the car, not money, and certainly not an air of remorse for having walked out on her mother.

_There's nothing I can do if you don't believe me._

But progress was a greedy affair, and noon found her slowed steps exuding fatigue the closer she got to Danville. Danville, not far away, but on foot, an eternity from her.

_

* * *

_

_Nothing I can do._

For show, Heinz rummaged through his bedroom for a clean lab coat, because today was a new day, with a new plan, a new trap, and an old friend waiting, asleep.

_There's nothing I can do if you're not with me._

"And now we're ready! Since you didn't come to destroy my Despair-inator last time you were here, I get to use it today with you watching helplessly!" announced the doctor. He wheeled in the massive, hat-shaped device into the living room where his guest, Perry, lay dormant in the metallic case he made with his hands.

"Behold the Despair-inator. Ignore the weird shape, I was distressed when I fashioned it out of your...hehe, your fedora. But that just highlights what it does: it converges the wearer's emotions into the brain. I wanted to control the Tri-state Area with this, but I've got a better idea."

He paused. "After all, emotions are simply neuron signals being transmitted throughout the nervous system. By focusing all negativity into the mind, destructive hormones will cause each of the bodily systems to shut down one by one. It's so much easier to, you know, shoot myself perhaps, but I don't have a gun. Weird, but I never thought of buying one. I should have made a Gun-inator instead..."

_

* * *

_

_Nothing I can do._

Quietly, though it wouldn't make a difference, Perry stepped outside the purple room. Just a few minutes of flight via his hover jet or the hang glider was all it would take to return to that yellow suburban house where he first felt loved, and his dear Phineas (or Ferb, in some cases) would utter one of the phrases he lived to hear:

"Oh there you are, Perry!"

The other five words were, "Curse you, Perry the platypus!" But he saw that trap Doofenshmirtz himself crafted, saw the Despair-inator. Because he was Agent P—or used to be—he hated that he was indeed helpless to stop the evil intent the doctor had with it.

_There's nothing I can do now that you can't hear me! _

The fact that he was just a ghost seeped off the last of his waning strength. Perry passed through the fortitudinous constructs of men: buildings, unused space, arbitrary verdure. He could blink into any place he wished; no drama or documentary he had watched ever said that. But he found that Danville's two ends were no more distant than the space between two pages of a closed book. If he wanted to see his owners, he could—

But that was all they were. Owners. Unlike "real" family, they could stomach sending him back "home" to Australia. They didn't know half the truth of what that place meant. Only blood rang up in his memory if he thought back on the old riverside burrow, that colorful spring morning...

But again, no. His heart bled to have Heinz enfold him again in embrace. And yet the longer he dwelt on it, missing the boys became more powerful than bitterness.

* * *

Ferb sighed under the weight of the enormous, blank scrapbook he just bought for Phineas. When the younger brother had lethargically announced the day's activity, both of them exchanged anticipating glances. Who was going to say it this time?

"_I wonder...where Perry is," Phineas had his triangular head bowed as he said it. Ferb got up and sat beside his brother, holding his shoulders firmly until they stopped shaking. _

_Linda came into their bedroom and handed Phineas a photo album. "Perry knows you love him," she said, hugging her sons, "like I love you even if I'm away doing errands, or like when you're in school."_

"_Or when Perry disappears," raised Ferb. _

"_But nothing lasts forever," sobbed Phineas, "and Perry always came home."_

_At that moment a tall figure entered the room. "Dad told me what happened! I wish I got home sooner, but the train ride and the dorm keeper..." Candace joined the hug. "I'm sorry." She reached for Phineas' sweet red hair and stroked it. He was crying again, and he was always the optimistic one. "Oh come here, Phin." She pulled him into a separate hug. _

"_You really came home for this...?" _

"_Of course, for you. No college and no Jeremy comes before my family," smiled Candace. "Now what's this?" She looked at the photo album in Phineas' hands. As their mother stepped outside to make breakfast, she broke into an intriguing grin. "Guys, I know what we're gonna do today."_

* * *

"Oh, there you are..."

Perry's heart stopped full when he heard that young male voice. He tiptoed across the wooden fence and saw Phineas and Candace under the tree, waiting for...

"...Ferb! What took you?"

Ferb entered the backyard, carrying what appeared to be a gigantic book made of recycled material; he winked gaily, flashing the thumbs-up, and set down the book in front of his siblings.

_Hmph. _Perry drifted slowly over the even grass, toward his usual spot by the old tree's root. Once he settled flat on his stomach, those brown eyes of his defaulted to a pair without focus. For a long while he watched Phineas sorting and shuffling bits and pieces of what looked like hard paper, which at times followed the soft breeze, ruining the apparent order he had laid out. The redhead merely smiled and redid everything without commotion as his sister nonchalantly twiddled a bottle of glue.

"How's this, Ferb?" asked Phineas.

"Ready for pasting," Ferb said. He opened the scrapbook on the first page and let Candace draw squiggly patterns all over it with her glue. Phineas picked up the first rectangular paper from his arrangement; he had stood up to paste it in the middle of the page, when a puff of wind blew it from his hand to where Perry lay languidly.

It was a _photo_. He never recalled seeing this, but the yellowing around the edges gave a clue to its age. Candace, who stood in the middle, looked no more than ten years old. Linda and Lawrence smiled from the background, with Phineas and Ferb on their laps. The toddlers were giddy with uncontained excitement and fascination at the furry baby in Ferb's tiny arms.

The first day Perry came "home."

"I wish Perry could see this," Phineas said, his blue eyes moist. "I wish we had the chance to say—"

Candace stopped him. "We don't say goodbye to things like that." She looked to Ferb, who smiled his agreement, and they all hugged again.

* * *

Heat.

It was exactly twenty-four hours ago, when she and her father set off to find Perry. Twenty-four hours ago, back when she resented mere proximity to her father, resented riding on DEI's official transportation, that old worn-down scooter. Twenty-four hours ago, when she saw that boy again after so long, that quiet boy called Ferb. Twenty-four hours ago, she realized her father was not the enemy.

In this heat.

Noontime heat. Heat of day. Heat of words left unsaid, of words needing to be said. Like "I don't hate you," "I'm sorry," and even... "I love you."

Vanessa took a breath when she saw the door labelled "Doofenshmirtz" far ahead of her. It was all she could do to bite her tongue and swallow as her soft hand met the reinforced wood of the pale door—the three abrupt knocks broke the imminent silence.

"Dad?"

But it swung open to reveal an empty floor, chafed with signs of struggle: shattered glass everywhere, covering up footprints of many different birds, reptiles, and mammals, which scratched and clawed at the carpet. It was reminiscent of so many things, so many details: days and years of habit, when Perry broke into the building fully prepared for whatever trap her father had. As she crossed her arms and surveyed the wreck that remained of her father's meager home, it occurred to her that the Monobrow's return was only to be expected.

"Lookie here, a trap," she said to herself impassively when her eyes fell on the lustrous metal box in the middle of the living room. Upon closer inspection, it was swathed with a million tiny hieroglyphs, in fact, engraved with a very thin stylus. The way even the lines were irregularly proportioned, the design was impressed, probably by hand, right into the stainless steel. These pictures were...no, could it be—that her father had drawn his every single encounter with Perry on this box?

It was a hollow box too, she noted. The top was an equally ornate cover. Curiosity controlled her fingers. The latch came off easily, light reflected off the layer of thick glass...and the inevitable dawned on her.

It was a coffin.

Perry lay inside, looking no more asleep than...dead, as if he would burst out with an impossibly high note or with some gadget hiding inside that remarkable fedora of his.

"C-curse you, Perry—"

It rolled right out of her tongue, like she'd intended. With difficulty, true, but it was all she needed to start. She balled her fist and struck the glass, which did no more than bruise her hand. She punched it again; at last it gave way, and shards of glass rained on the platypus' blue-green fur. "Curse you!" she cried, reaching for the fedora on that turquoise head. "There's nothing I can do if Dad loves you more than me!"

At that, a shadow swept into the room, locked its razor-sharp talons on her midsection, and lifted her into the air. Her eyes widened when she saw that this creature—an enormous white-backed vulture—wore a dark-brown hat similar to Perry's. Vanessa gasped for air, but the raptor tightened its grip around her.

"Good work, Agent V," came Monogram's voice as they reached DEI's rooftop.

The vulture saluted him and crunched its claws into Vanessa.

"Monobrow! You again," she snarled, more of a response to the pain. "What did you do to my dad?"

"Oh, nothing yet," winked the major. He indicated with a cock of his head the presence of the unconscious Dr. Doofenshmirtz by his feet.

Before Vanessa could retort, the vulture reminded her of its presence; its deadly talons stifled her struggles to move, shredding further her sore body. Blood drained from her sides. The most she could do was groan and tighten her hand around Perry's hat.

"Alright, we're all here. Agents, fall in!" A line of assorted animals, all wearing light-brown fedoras, came forward from the shadows and stopped in front of Monogram. "Escort our guests to the maximum-security holding room. Keep them comfortable, by the way," he added, "and of course by comfortable, I mean..._uncomfortable!_"


	4. Major Mistake

**Not Even Me**

_Cezille07_

A/N: I was so full of **literary inspiration** when I wrote this chapter; I had just finished reading Nicholas Sparks' "Dear John", which made me cry (well, all his works make me cry, hehe).

I'm doing this for the first time, but I owe so much gratitude to everyone who reviewed so far: iluvperry, Gotapenname, flameblaster13, Pricat, human perry, DoOfY aNd PeRrY, MooMoo-of-Doom, Ever the Antagonist, wolfyfox3, Clockwork Oracle King, and darkdemondog24. Waah! Thanks for the support! :D

So anyway, I hope you like this one.

* * *

Chapter 4. Major Mistake.

When Doofenshmirtz awoke, he was in a straightjacket inside what looked like a psychiatric containment room. The large walls were cushioned with thin, white pads. There were no doors, no windows; only an overhead monitor hung in front of him, providing a weak, nearly invisible glow. The striking absence of light forced him to squint in semi-darkness. From the monitor, two indistinct voices were arguing in hushed tones.

The last thing he remembered was giving a speech about the Despair-inator, and then ropes—which came out of nowhere—suddenly fell beyond his window. He looked outside to find a horde of creatures rappelling from helicopters clearly labelled "OWCA." _Monogram, he's back!_ The doctor froze. He saw them approaching by the hundreds, or thousands, but then again he couldn't count so well. His mind wasn't working. How was he going to fend off the artillery that Monogram had sent? In the back of his head, he knew Perry was the single _best_ among any of them, and that if the platypus were alive, there was a fighting chance that he'd fight for Doofenshmirtz as he cowardly escaped. Or was that a sick illusion too? He couldn't trust himself anymore, in case he had already gone insane, which was highly acceptable. He knew he _wanted_ to go insane. That was the best case.

He stepped back without locking the windows, half-expecting bullets—whatever they had—to start bombarding him and tearing the place apart. He had a second to dash to the living room and close the lid on Perry's trap. It should pass off for a regular box of no interest. Only, the design he had made for it could not be helped. It was too obvious, too...personal. He then sprinted for the closet, where a set of curtains and table cloths gathered dust; merely pulling the handle released a puff of smoke, an inkling of its anguish that it hadn't been opened in years. It was when he was throwing behind him the ton of unpressed lab coats, torn slacks, empty picture frames, and party memorabilia which cluttered every drawer in his room to look for anything he might conceal the coffin with, that he realized a pair of wing beats had erupted behind him. Wings? He turned around, and there sat a huge eagle and a partner hawk by the door, their beady eyes fixed on his haggard expression.

He swallowed hard, but the dry lump in his throat choked him. He had known this was coming sooner or later; after the major learned of Perry's fate, only one course of action was relevant: get the evil _dummkopf_ behind the platypus' death.

Next thing he knew, he was plopped on his stomach in this badly-ventilated room. He sat up, trying to wriggle his arms free, and wondering if this was what a prison cell looked like. Or if this was what hell looked like. The room was getting stuffy, he would later realize, because of accumulating carbon dioxide; there were no vents or windows to be seen. Well, that was in part because of the inadequate light of the monitor.

It blacked out and refocused.

"Doof! You're awake," Monogram opened, his deep voice colored with sarcasm, "And I thought the raptors had killed you. Agent V would have had an early lunch."

* * *

Heinz had no intentions of knowing who or what sort of nightmare Agent V was, if it was a virus or a Venus flytrap or a ventricle.

"Where am I?" he responded.

"No, it's not important. What's important is that you tell me what in your crazed mind drove you to commit this grave act against society," explained Monogram. "And whether I tell you or not won't make a difference, because you'll rot here until only bones remain of you, and your bones will rot 'til even microscopic foragers cannot make a decent bite out of you." The major crossed his arms and attempted to smile, but a grimace came out instead. "So, why did you kill Perry?"

Heinz only grunted.

"Quiet, eh? I don't mind. I have forever. But you, on the other hand, don't. If you noticed, I took the liberty of uninstalling the air-conditioning and exhaust system, and that air you're breathing right now is filling with gases your body doesn't need. I'd breathe less and explain more, if I were you."

The monitor's faint light against the total darkness of the room strained Doofenshmirtz's eyes, and he blinked. "I never hurt Perry," he began, but was cut short by the major:

"Liar! You're a low, moral-less fiend who has wanted nothing but the downfall of the Tri-state Area!"

"But I never—I could never—I don't want to—"

"You _disgust_ me! Is that all you can say?" spat Monogram, but he quickly straightened himself. "But I guess you can't help it. You can't even think straight. It is to be expected."

"Perry was my family!" Doofenshmirtz finally yelled, and Monogram thought it fair to look the feverish doctor in the eyes and laugh.

"You don't know the first _thing_ about family, you Doof. Look behind you. Is that what you call family?"

Heinz frowned, but checked anyway. After the glare of the monitor, he couldn't make out what object the heap in the darkness was. He walked in blind uncertainty, noticing for the first time that he wasn't wearing his shoes...only now because he stepped into a warm puddle of something that wet his feet. He stopped, forcing his eyes to focus, but they wouldn't. He heard a low grumble from the monitor that might have resembled a laugh. Finally, Monogram barked orders to an unknown companion to switch on the emergency light; the white beams that flashed into existence perfectly illuminated the pool of black and drying blood in which he stood.

Heinz had thought the puddle was made of tears. Tears were easy to gather, he knew from experience. And when he looked beyond the puddle to its source, he wished that the eagle or the hawk had killed him, torn him to shreds, and fed his remains to the doonkleberry bats that haunted his youth.

* * *

"My baby girl...what did he do to you?" he sobbed.

Vanessa opened her eyes, coughing out blood as she did so, and gave a pained smile when her feeble vision found him struggling to free himself and hold her.

"Dad," she rasped. Unlike him, she wasn't restrained by a straightjacket; she wasn't stripped of her clothes. The black leather garb she donned that morning was reduced to strands of unrecognizable features. Through these holes, her skin was a pale, linen-white film that was cold to the touch.

"Dad," she said again, "lis...listen to me. I need...to tell you...something." Her chest heaved massive breaths, but only because breath made no difference.

"I'm here, Vanessa!" Heinz cried, sounding more strained than strong though he tried to be. "What is it, baby girl?"

"I was so, so...jealous," she coughed, "...of Perry." Blood leaked from the sides of her mouth, joining the rest of the puddle beside her. Heinz cringed at the weary manner she said it, but she raised a limp hand to stop him. "I thought maybe...it was my turn, to be a part of your life again. It was mostly my fault that we weren't so close, but since yesterday, all I wanted was to have you as my father, _my_ father only, and you to have me as your daughter."

She paused. Her emphasis on "my father only" didn't seem to reach him, and she closed her eyes, not waiting for him to answer.

"There were exactly three words I couldn't say to your face, because I was too angry and too chicken to admit defeat... Perry won you over without him trying, didn't he?"

"Perry," began Heinz. Saying the name brought a tingle to his spine. "He was a million things, but he's not you," he bowed his head. "You're my baby girl, and no one...whoever or _whatever_ that 'one' is, can change how much I love you."

Vanessa tried to chuckle. "When we get out of here, I want to see Drueselstein." The origin of the statement confused her father. "I hear all about it, and how terrible and bleak it is, but I've never been there."

"What...why are you saying this?"

"When we get out of here, I'd like you to take me there. We can start over, get away from Danville and all this mess."

"Of course," moaned Heinz. Gimmelschtump absolutely terrified him for reasons even he couldn't figure. "Anything for you."

"And you can build an Inator, for _me_."

"The best Inator," he confirmed.

Vanessa looked up at his face, saw the tears spill from his miserable eyes, and she smiled. Her face contorted accordingly to the pain when she forced one arm to move, then two, then her whole torso, just to sit up, and lean on him in a false embrace. "I love you, Dad."

It wasn't like the one Perry had when he left; that was more 'real' and consented. She knew her father wouldn't even think of this to be remotely similar, just that she needed to feel him, alive, functioning, alright even if sooner or later, she slipped away too...

* * *

Watching the evil scientist sit motionless, restrained by a straightjacket, staring at the soft cushions of his holding room and at his dying daughter's gasps for air gave Major Monogram the highest form of pride achievable. He faced a bunch of these no-good scoundrels every day, sentencing them to a less than pleasant execution one way or another; the sound of men screaming their agony with more than just words, but with tears, with _blood_—that was utterly gratifying. To think this man now captive used to be the lowest-level threat in the history of failure itself! And he, Monogram, had put a stop to it.

Someone cleared his throat behind him.

"Sir, we should really attend to Vanessa's injuries," piped Carl. The intern's squeaky voice deepened the frown Monogram practiced; he had forgotten his presence. "I know she's the enemy, like you claim, and she has evil in her blood and is therefore as evil as her father (which by the way is a genetic fallacy). But we can't just let her die."

"Oh shut up, she's not gonna die. We've discussed this. Get out of my sight," the major answered. "It sickens me to think you're...sympathizing with the Doofenshmirtz family."

Carl shifted his weight from the right foot to his left. "Can I just get two minutes to look at how badly Agent V wounded her—?"

"How _incompetent_ can you get? Don't you know I'm resisting every urge to throw you in there with them?"

The intern was shocked, and his eyes proved it. "Why don't you do it, then?" Carl whispered, staring hard at his feet as he shuffled them.

Monogram turned an incredulous eye toward the boy. This youthful, ever obedient intern had spoken back. "Do you know what you're saying?"

Carl stiffened his quivering knees and inched for the first aid kit under the nearest file cabinet. Without breaking the fierce stare, he backed out slowly and exited into the long, dark hallway. He was Carl the intern; he knew all these passages because he designed them himself for the major. He knew every chute and trap door that hid under the smooth marble tiles. Three doors ahead was the elevator to the Flynn-Fletcher dining room. A turn to the right after two flights of stairs led directly to the basement of Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated. And right in front of him now, this rough granite opening barely wide enough to fit a human was the only entrance and exit to what remained of Perry's hideout. He checked his watch before attempting to squeeze himself through. Quarter past two. The doctor and his daughter had less than an hour before their diminishing oxygen ran out.

* * *

The sight of her clinging to his unworthy form broke him, and he would never want to see daylight again if he had to live after this. Losing Perry was a terrible thing, but not the most terrible thing that happened to him. Vanessa was his baby girl, his pride and joy, his ultimate happiness; and her smile, he realized, was the most priceless treasure he owned...and threw away. He had been selfish, and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for too many things, for this wash of utter blankness that defied his name.

He let a large gasp of air burn his lungs as the words, "I can't lose you, Vanessa! Not you! Not you too!" imploded. He couldn't say them. Nothing in his vocabulary made sense. Words were a smokescreen that blurred meaning. If he spoke, the last semblance of reality, Vanessa wheezing in his arms, would fade.

But there was nothing he could do. It felt like an eternity later, and it lasted twice as long, but finally, Vanessa retched some good amount of blood all over Heinz, and she stopped breathing.

"No!" the doctor shrieked, and his heart was crushed under the endless words that suddenly seized him. Some were cusses, some were meaningless German interjections. His father's two immortal words that molded him, "Don't move!" was there. What came out however was unexpected, and it rang, half because the room was closed without hope, and half because it was really the first time he meant it.

"Curse you Perry the platypus!"

This line, of course, resonates through time and space. Perry, from the Flynn-Fletcher residence, feels the mesh of uncontained emotions in Doofenshmirtz. When he hears this very line, his soul blinks out of existence, vanishing from an idyllic backyard...into a dark prison underground.

* * *

A/N: Yes, the room they're in was Perry's base before Monogram stripped it of all gadgets, except for the overhead monitor. I thought it was sort of ironic to have it that way, to trap Doofenshmirtz in Agent P's territory, non?

Up next: (Sorry, you have to wait. ;) )


	5. Blame

**Not Even Me**

_Cezille07_

A/N: After the millionth revision (thank you, Writer's Block!), I've decided to break the climax chapter into two separate chapters. It was rather long to digest in one sitting, so this will be just the "calm before the storm," as they say. I have more notes about this release; it's on my deviantArt blog entry, "Three months later, NEM gets an update!"

For this chapter, let's be a little critical: Was Perry's memory of his first birthday just a dramatic addition to chapter 1? No, it was planned; a subtle reason will appear here and later on. Also, will I leave Vanessa's depressing fate the way I did? Breathe a little, I've got great plans for the ending. ;) This and two chapters to go! HOOT!

* * *

Chapter 5. Blame.

"Vanessa..."

Everything had been speculated and studied and debated on, but ultimately, death was simple. Empty. And in the end, nothing moved, and time was a frozen clock. What _was_ time? _Where_ was here, _what_ was here, in this empty space? Easily can the loud echoes of life be forgotten, and she lay quietly, a motionless ball curled up against harsh reality. No, reality meant nothing. All there was in this black vacuum was…freedom, a blanket of impossibly soft threads and infinite warmth.

With candid innocence, she realized that death was intrinsically wonderful.

"Vanessa."

But there was that putrid sound, a warp in her perfect peace.

"Vanessa!"

She couldn't place the voice, and likely she had never heard it before. It wasn't her father, definitely; he was a lifetime ago, a fantasy, a myth...too damaged to love her if only at last minute.

"Don't be afraid," said the calm, male voice. She felt two hands—two _smaller_ hands—enfold her own cold ones. "I'm here," the voice added, smiling, if only she knew.

"Who are you?" she managed to utter.

The voice's owner guided Vanessa into a sitting position and waited by her side as, all too slowly, patches of light squinted through her eyes. "Don't be afraid," he repeated, "It's me, Perry."

* * *

It wasn't a dream. Unmistakably, there knelt the familiar, hatless platypus in front of her.

"Perry?" Vanessa scrambled to her feet, and doing so left her feeling suddenly cold. She blinked, trying to level herself, but everywhere she looked, answers started appearing. They were still in the dank holding room, and the monitor, her father, and her dead and blood-drenched body still sat under the intense gleam of the emergency light above them. Despite the unreserved pain she felt when she sustained those wounds, they had stopped aching... Nothing hurt anymore. She looked at herself, or what was left of her. She was nothing more than a dim, translucent light.

"Are you okay now?" Perry asked. He was a clear, bright light, she noted.

"I guess," she lied. Excuses echoed feebly in the surrounding void, "Oh yeah, hell yeah, I'm fine. I'm glad to see you, Perry. I hope you're okay. Leaving my life, leaving my father back in Monogram's death trap means nothing to me." For a long time, these words waited to burst forth from her lips, which, as she looked at the platypus, quivered furiously. Death was no longer so frightening; rather, it was seeing her father's nemesis again.

"Vanessa, I—"

"Don't _touch_ me!" she fired at Perry, who was halfway to reaching for her hand. "Just because now we're in the same boat doesn't mean I trust you. All _this_ was _your_ fault. That bastard Monobrow thinks my dad killed you, but whose world shattered anyway? Dad's! His spiraling depression lost him his mind. We might as well just sit here and wait for him to come join us before we start with the post-mortem festivities!"

"D-don't say that, your father has a fighting chance and—"

In the living world, Heinz suddenly flared up, his eyes glazed; he made an incomprehensible yelp and ran headfirst into the overhead monitor where Monogram silently gloated. The thick glass shattered on top of him, and a sea of electric wires exploded in his face, disabling him. The emergency light flickered and died.

"You were saying, Agent P?" Vanessa snapped triumphantly.

"I understand." Perry's tone was smeared with rejection. He sighed. Turning his gaze to Heinz, he addressed the gloomy air, "Do you know what Monogram told me, the day I got fired?" he began, choosing his words carefully. Vanessa made no response, so he went on, "He said that he and Carl have studied your father for years, analyzing the root of his evil. They pinned the blame on me. Said that his self-esteem flourished because I was always after him."

"His self-esteem _died_ with you," snapped Vanessa. "It was always you. Perry the platypus this, Perry the platypus that. After you, I never had a single chance to show him I loved him. Every minute becomes a discourse about evil, and I know he enjoys it because evil meant time with you. You're not even family, Perry! I come in through the front door and get ignored until I accidentally walk into an Inator or some remote of evil. You have permission to break in through the windows and the ceilings, and get first class treatment (not counting the traps), complete with long explanations and full-blown maniacal laughter! You're _just_ a platypus. You never had to do anything, but you've done more for him, and to him, than I could ever do. You never tried, but you have everything I could ever want. Now here we are, at the perfect opportunity for me to air my grievances," she added bitterly, "because there's nothing left to do while we sit out here and watch Monogram's victory over your stupid friendship."

"It is _not_ stupid!" yelled Perry.

"Oh, yippee, he fights back."

"Will you please cut the attitude?" he panted. "I was there with your father when he picked up the phone this morning! I was watching when Monogram broke into his home and knocked him out cruelly, with a kick to the back of his head while an eagle and hawk held him still with their claws! I never really left, Vanessa, and I understand that both of you were hurting terribly. But give me a moment, I have feelings too! I hurt, because the hardest part about being dead is looking back at the people I left behind and hoping they're alright, knowing they _never_ will be! There's nothing I _can_ do, and that's the thing I hate most. So when you're done whining, think back and tell me why you felt warm when you awoke into this death."

Vanessa was stunned, but he cited the warmth appropriately. She remembered the black vacuum, devoid of light and sound, and even thoughts were afraid to occupy its nothingness. She pictured the room when she first heard Perry's voice, which jolted her from the sweet stupor of the afterlife. Bleak as it was, she did feel warm, as if the warmest feather blanket enveloped her—no, actually, it was like a familiar human embrace... Her father's.

"Dad..." she said reflexively, filling with awe and longing that should have evaporated when she gave up the fight to live. "His embrace was—"

"The safest place in the world?" Perry finished for her. They exchanged glances, sighed, and found nothing more to say.

Without the emergency light and the monitor's faint glow, their ghostly presence cast a weak light around them as they listened to Doofenshmirtz's half-conscious mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"It's unfair of me, I think." Vanessa's voice was uneven, like she'd been pushing back tears. "I'm demanding so much of a platypus that doesn't do much, who can't even talk—" She coughed suddenly, her eyes widening when they landed on Perry. "Wait, hang on—you were _talking!"_

"We're spirits, not bounded by the physical limitations of our bodies," explained the platypus. "But I wish I had been able to talk, when I was still alive. I would tell my owners I loved them and thank them every day for taking me in. They never knew me for who I really was...but that your father did made up for it. Every day, if I could've talked, I would tell your father how thankful I am for his friendship."

Perry looked up at Vanessa and offered a sad smile. "If you say his world depended on me, then everything in my universe does not and _cannot_ measure up to his worth."

Vanessa caught his expression, and found that it gave her an unexpected pang of guilt. She instantly forgot that he was a platypus; in the back of her mind, he was a kind, kind gentleman with the calmest voice and the sweetest heart, and she understood that her father needed exactly a dose of his company to forget evil and just feel...alive. "I...I'm sorry, Perry. Blaming you was all I could do. Please forgive me."

"Come here," he said, and he hugged the tall lady. When he pulled back, his face had regained an agent's composure. "And now we have to get you and your father out of here."

"You say that like there's still hope for me."

"Because there is. I don't think your time really is up yet. Monogram shouldn't have hurt you," Perry added firmly. "For that, you should keep fighting. To live, I mean."

"B-but how? Isn't it a little too late when we're already dead?"

Perry winked. "No, no it isn't."

* * *

Presently, Monogram was sitting behind his desk, looking through a stack of papers that must've arrived during the interrogation with the Doof. After Carl stormed off, the most exciting thing that happened was watching the doctor rise to his feet and launch himself headfirst into the overhead monitor; the glass shattered on top of him at impact, silencing his incomprehensible yelp. That did nothing to the video feed, which Monogram still glanced at every few seconds; the camera was of course a separate unit camouflaged beneath a layer of white cushioning. Now Doofenshmirtz was just lying there, Vanessa was probably dead, and the unpromising hero Carl still hasn't appeared in the footage.

Monogram flipped through the papers, dismissing document after document of unimportant salaries and bills. Electricity went down drastically after everything was uninstalled in Perry's lair, he mused; a lot had calmed down indeed because, well, the Doof was the only madcap villain around. On the other hand, Perry, being their top rank agent, received gasp-worthy paychecks monthly…under quite a controversial bank account: Perry Doofenshmirtz, an odd choice which didn't go without dispute.

In fact, a lot of doubt enshrouded Agent P's formerly spotless record. His newfound "trust" in his nemesis, his sudden…departure. There was no question that Doofenshmirtz caused this. The evil scientist had finally found a way to outsmart all of them, but at what cost? Perry's life? Then why was he still trapped, and not even trying to escape? Why was he mourning his daughter, who couldn't care for him if she tried? Why didn't he leave Danville when he had the chance? Why didn't he fight back even if he could? Why was he _afraid_?

Monogram crossed the room to the drawers and shoved the guilty files inside. Either way, he and Carl had definitely been right when they pinned the blame for the doctor's antics on Perry. With both of them taken care of, everything was falling into place. Losing Agent P felt like an untimely price for this priceless victory over the evil Heinz Doofenshmirtz, but never mind. They both won somehow.

_So n__ever mind Agent P, he's better off dead now than minding this headache..._

_Forget Agent P, our best agent of all. He never stopped to question any request from the agency that saved his life. _

_Forget Agent P. He had a good life. His owners loved him, his nemesis hated him. It was a fair trade off. _

He waited. Doofenshmirtz was rocking himself, muttering inadvertently. Monogram wished he had a hat to take off in memory of the platypus. Something about the scene gave him a sense of nostalgia, or déjà vu. He scoffed. Those were nonsense.

_Forget Agent P..._

He continued watching the bloodbath Doofenshmirtz revelled in, swearing this was the last time he'd think of the platypus. But the blood, it stirred a long-dormant memory of the unpleasant first time he encountered Perry.

* * *

_The then thirty year-old Francis Monogram had won a splendid vacation for two to Australia in a raffle hosted by the OWCA. He wanted to take his wife, but since they couldn't risk the secrecy of the organization, Monogram had to take their old intern, the one before Carl, so the other plane ticket wouldn't go to waste. Back then, the OWCA didn't yet enjoy the services of so many agents and so many funds, so budgets really meant budgets. Tight __budgets. With evil amok in the Tri-State area, nothing could be wasted. _

_He vividly remembered the moment he stepped out of the plane and beheld the beauty of the foreign land. The people spoke a kind of English he didn't quickly grasp, until the intern programmed a de-accent-ifier for them both. Everyone was quick to welcome them; it was a magnificent spring morning in Australia. The top tourist spots those days were hiking trails and eco parks. _

_Come twilight, a__ quick chill had descended, and all Monogram could do was rub a set of thin, dry twigs together in an attempt to make fire. The intern had set up a small camp in the woods for them and was fast asleep by then. It was supposed to be a beautiful spring, spring being such a lovely metaphor for life and new beginnings—though it looked desperately to Monogram as if he would die encased in ice that very evening, alone in a foreign land. _

_He set down the failed bonfire and decided to get his blood going by taking a little walk. He stuck his hands inside the woollen pockets of his thick coat, which had no further effect than spreading the coldness to his torso as well. Thus, stiffly he proceeded, following the river upstream until he came into a clearing. _

_Nothing remarkable, unless one was too comfortable in a technical and urban life. The most blossoming trees, the freshest air, grass nearly beyond his height. He had almost forgotten how breathtaking nature looked. In front of him sat a thousand-foot waterfall, shedding the coolest water to touch his skin. The night was filled with the orchestral serenade of crickets._

_That was when he spotted the smallest platypus sitting quietly in the middle of the clearing. Not that he had seen many before, but he knew enough to know this one was particularly odd. Platypuses were nocturnal animals, quite the shiest of many creatures, that actually seeing one was rare even for forest dwellers. This one simply did not move, except to breathe quickly—or to sob...? _

_And it hit him. The __place was not an ordinary clearing; it had been burned out, and covered in blood. Francis knew better than to approach. It would only trigger the monotreme's instinctive shyness, and drive it into the security of the deep, icy waters of the river. But platypuses, despite their reclusive nature, weren't solitary. "Poor little guy," he mumbled, unable to imagine how this baby's family had been killed in front of it. _

* * *

"I noticed right away that your spirit was dim and translucent," Perry thought aloud. "If you want to, you have a shot of holding onto your life. Listen, we have to get Heinz out of here. This place, this _place_ was my lair. We're in Monogram's quarters, and if he could think of letting Agent V manhandle you this carelessly, then I don't know what worse aces he has up his sleeve."

"Worse than removing the exhaust system and allowing this room to fill with carbon dioxide? Monobrow wants to poison us if my dad doesn't confess to the murder. Even if he does confess, though, I don't think we'll be getting out alive anyway."

"'Confess'?" fumed Perry. "Heinz _never_ hurt me—it was Monobrow! It was Monobrow..." he repeated to himself. "If I had my fedora, I'd—"

"I...think I have it," piped Vanessa, noting the livid fury behind Perry's eyes. "I took it from your trap before Monobrow captured me."

"Great," Perry confirmed, and he smirked. The first thing he planned to do would be to saw the major's neck right open and shove his precious files about Heinz down his throat. That was just the _first_ thing... The morbid revenge scheme formed and dissolved quickly. He sighed. _Forget it_. It wouldn't have made them any better than Monobrow.

"Vanessa, I'm gonna have to ask you a difficult favor. You understand that what we are now is distant, unreal almost...but comfortable, right? If you wake up now, all this pain will be real again. Understand?"

Vanessa felt herself—and felt nothing. She was a ghost. Her body was a total mess, and if she woke up...

"I'm asking you to wake up," ordered Perry. "Wake up. It's not the easiest thing in the world. But you have to wake up and fight."

Wake up and fight. She knew that the steely resolve in his eyes was the last strength she hung onto, and that he was right. Wake up and fight. Didn't everyone need to? From their own insecurities, imagined or not, everyone had to snap out of their pain and press on. Life wasn't a joyride, it was a broken down vehicle; it wasn't a comedy, it was the most convoluted drama. But Perry was right, and she _did_ have to wake up. Her father had to wake up too. He needed to move on—and survive the most wonderful tragedy of all: Life.

"But Perry", Vanessa began, "if I could just...live again, why didn't _you_...?"

The platypus shook his head. "You were just weakened by physical and mental wounds, but you had no reason to die: You have the love of your family and the heart of a fighter. On three, I want you to clear your mind...and breathe."

"But you have a family too," she pressed.

"One..."

"Perry, aren't Phineas and Ferb your owners?"

"Two..."

"What about Dad?"

"Use the fedora! It'll have anything you might need! Okay? _Three!"_

The next question hadn't even come, and all of a sudden, the vulture's claws felt embedded in her flesh again. The wounds were still bleeding. The pain was beyond desperate, beyond traumatizing, beyond fear and repair—

She gasped.

The air stung. Everything stung. Just like Perry said it would. But, just as he said, it was the most magnificent feeling she had ever experienced.


	6. The Fedora's Secret

**Not Even Me**

_Cezille07_

A/N: Sorry for vanishing off the face of the planet for over a year. I know a handful of people were waiting for an update; I sincerely hope you people haven't given up on this story. I almost did.

This chapter is what you've all been waiting for. The title explanation. FINALLY, right? Here we go! Please review before you leave!

* * *

Chapter 6. The Fedora's Secret.

Five minutes ago, Monogram was sitting behind his desk, looking through a stack of papers that must've arrived during the interrogation with the Doof. After Carl stormed off, the most exciting thing that happened was watching the doctor rise to his feet and launch himself headfirst into the overhead monitor; the glass shattered on top of him at impact, silencing his incomprehensible yelp. That did nothing to the video feed, which Monogram still glanced at every few seconds; the camera was of course a separate unit camouflaged beneath a layer of white cushioning. Doofenshmirtz was just lying there, Vanessa was probably dead, and the unpromising hero Carl still hasn't appeared in the footage.

Monogram flipped through the papers, dismissing document after document of unimportant salaries and bills. Electricity went down drastically after everything was uninstalled in Perry's lair, he mused; a lot had calmed down indeed because, well, the Doof was the only madcap villain around. On the other hand, Perry, being their top rank agent, received gasp-worthy paychecks monthly…under quite a controversial bank account: Perry Doofenshmirtz, an odd choice which didn't go without dispute.

In fact, a lot of doubt enshrouded Agent P's formerly spotless record. His newfound "trust" in his nemesis, his sudden…departure. There was no question that Doofenshmirtz caused this. The evil scientist had finally found a way to outsmart all of them, but at what cost? Perry's life? Then why was he still trapped, and not even trying to escape? Why was he mourning his daughter, who couldn't care for him if she tried? Why didn't he leave Danville when he had the chance? Why didn't he fight back even if he could? Why was he _afraid_?

Monogram crossed the room to the drawers and shoved the guilty files inside. Either way, he and Carl had definitely been right when they pinned the blame for the doctor's antics on Perry. With both of them taken care of, everything was falling into place. Losing Agent P felt like an untimely price for this priceless victory over the evil Heinz Doofenshmirtz, but never mind. They both won somehow.

_So never mind Agent P, he's better off dead now than minding this headache..._

_Forget Agent P, our best agent of all. He never stopped to question any request from the agency that saved his life. _

_Forget Agent P. He had a good life. His owners loved him, his nemesis hated him. It was a fair trade off. _

He waited. Doofenshmirtz was now rocking himself, muttering inadvertently. Monogram wished he had a hat to take off in memory of the platypus. Something about the scene gave him a sense of nostalgia, or déjà vu. He scoffed. Those were nonsense.

_Forget Agent P..._

He continued watching the bloodbath Doofenshmirtz revelled in, swearing this was the last time he'd think of the platypus. But the blood, it stirred a long-dormant memory of the unpleasant first time he encountered Perry.

* * *

_The then thirty year-old Francis Monogram had won a splendid vacation for two to Australia in a raffle hosted by the OWCA. He wanted to take his wife, but since they couldn't risk the secrecy of the organization, Monogram had to take their old intern, the one before Carl, so the other plane ticket wouldn't go to waste. Back then, the OWCA didn't yet enjoy the services of so many agents and so many funds, so budgets really meant budgets. Tight budgets. With evil amok in the Tri-State area, nothing could be wasted._

_He vividly remembered the moment he stepped out of the plane and beheld the beauty of the foreign land. The people spoke a kind of English he didn't quickly grasp, until the intern programmed a de-accent-ifier for them both. Everyone was quick to welcome them; it was a magnificent spring morning in Australia. The top tourist spots those days were hiking trails and eco parks. _

_Come twilight, a quick chill had descended, and all Monogram could do was rub a set of thin, dry twigs together in an attempt to make fire. The intern had set up a small camp in the woods for them and was fast asleep by then. It was supposed to be a beautiful spring, spring being such a lovely metaphor for life and new beginnings—though it looked desperately to Monogram as if he would die encased in ice that very evening, alone in a foreign land. _

_He set down the failed bonfire and decided to get his blood going by taking a little walk. He stuck his hands inside the woollen pockets of his thick coat, which had no further effect than spreading the coldness to his torso as well. Thus, stiffly he proceeded, following the river upstream until he came into a clearing. _

_Nothing remarkable, unless one was too comfortable in a technical and urban life. The most blossoming trees, the freshest air, grass nearly beyond his height. He had almost forgotten how breathtaking nature looked. In front of him sat a thousand-foot waterfall, shedding the coolest water to touch his skin. The night was filled with the orchestral serenade of crickets._

_That was when he spotted the smallest platypus sitting quietly in the middle of the clearing. Not that he had seen many before, but he knew enough to know this one was particularly odd. Platypuses were nocturnal animals, quite the shiest of many creatures, that actually seeing one was rare even for forest dwellers. This one simply did not move, except to breathe quickly—or to sob...? _

_And it hit him. The place was not an ordinary clearing; it had been burned out, and covered in blood. Francis knew better than to approach. It would only trigger the monotreme's instinctive shyness, and drive it into the security of the deep, icy waters of the river. But platypuses, despite their reclusive nature, weren't solitary. "Poor little guy," he mumbled, unable to imagine how this baby's family had been killed in front of it. _

* * *

Carl arrived at the holding room looking less than presentable. He stepped past Doofenshmirtz and his daughter, toward what remained of the overhead monitor. Beside it was a tiny black spot, circular and reflective...like a lens.

"This is the bug," Carl announced, earning some decent attention from Vanessa. "Let's skip the marathon and show Monogram a more interesting telecast, shall we?"

He pressed on it until the white padding that hid it faded to a black, dull plastic. It was a holographic camouflage, and they used it to track Perry's responses during their daily briefings, but there was no time to explain. Carl began to twist the camera, and it came out like a regular screw; once it protruded well enough to grasp with two fingers, he pulled it out of the wall.

Several offices away, the major's video feed was reduced to static.

* * *

"Darn it! If he's helping them escape—no, he can't... But he can!" Monogram corrected himself. "I should've known he would go this far to oppose me. His not coming to the Doof's capture was a hint, darn it..." He swiped the files off his desk with his left arm, while his right arm automatically located a hidden distress button in a corner of his desk. In less than ten minutes, the agents he had previously summoned today would assemble to obliterate Doofenshmirtz and his family, as well as that undeserving, unpaid intern, for good.

* * *

"Are you two okay?" Carl asked no one in particular, making his way towards them. Vanessa forced her heavy eyelids open, ignoring the unceasing pressure from inside her eyeballs, to observe the frantic way the intern lifted her arm and check her pulse. "Thank goodness, you're alive! Hang on." He did the same with her father, and sighed with relief once he was sure it was just shock and not yet the effects of carbon dioxide poisoning.

Vanessa tried to sit up, but only succeeded in groaning heartily.

"You need some good bandaging and a blood transfusion, but I'm afraid it has to wait," the younger teen apologized, nodding towards her once then opening his first-aid box. "By now it's safe to assume Monogram has instructed the agents to meet dispose of us at the exits."

"After us?" Vanessa clarified. Carl looked at her, puzzled. "I..." she sighed, "frankly, this is the second time today I thought I was talking to an enemy... Why are you helping us?"

The intern flashed a timid smile and hid a blush by focusing on the syringes he was fumbling with. "I've been the tyrant's underdog for too long," he answered simply. He lifted one of Vanessa's torn sleeves and gave her two shots. The pricks hurt briefly, but the instant pain-relief it provided shelved the resulting scream. "It's epinephrine, and endorphins." Carl exhaled. "Listen, I can stall whatever Monogram throws at us for a while, but I'm not an agent, and we're obviously going to be outnumbered. You and your father will both have to run, leave Danville. Monogram will hunt you, but his powers end at the boundary of the Tri-State Area; even if he calls for the other OWCA branches, it'll take a while; coordinating between divisions is always a long process. Anyway, once you're outside, get help, get any protection you can..."

Vanessa worked her way into a half-sitting position where she could support herself with her arms. The hormone shots were incredibly fast, though, she doubted her father would come up with something that instantly repairs muscles instead of just masking pain.

She met the intern's anxious concern. "Thank you," was all that came out. Gratitude wouldn't cover half the sacrifice he was offering.

Carl shook his head. "Don't, please. We need to focus." He pulled out another pair of syringes and injected her father. He was already questioning his loyalty, his sanity. Fighting for this family wouldn't be that far-fetched anymore.

Yesterday, everything was a blur between truth and question: why did this non-evil man kill his nemesis? Was Perry in fact an enemy to him? Was he ever? Doofenshmirtz, he now knew, was the last one still wallowing in a pit of depression. Everyone else, the boys, Vanessa, Carl himself—it had only been a day, but it was a start—they haven't moved on entirely, but they can, and they will. Doofenshmirtz was always the odd case. He lay quietly now, his eyes unfocused. But maybe he had been the one to see everything right from the start.

* * *

"Dad!"

Suddenly Heinz was jolted awake. His whole body shook; trembling had been such a comfortable mechanism, an involuntary, if not temporary, escape.

"Dad!"

What, how easy was it to give up? If his arms weren't tied behind him, it would be too easy. As easy as spelling "Inator." He would...

"Dad!"

What, what was left? Nothing, just his broken heart, and his broken family. Nothing.

"Dad! Snap out of it!"

"Don't...I don't want to," he slurred. Letting his head sag to one side, he closed his unseeing eyes in surrender. "Kill me..."

A solid punch into his long nose merited his attention.

"Vanessa?" he asked, just in case it wasn't a prank caller.

* * *

Vanessa wrung her hands guiltily while checking if her father's nose bled. "Sorry, Dad," she muttered. Half her mind still dwelt on the inexplicable nausea and exhaustion that blasted vulture caused, and the subsequent, omnipresent, tearing pain that the simplest movements gave. Still, Carl's first aid had already worked its wonders; much of the tearing pain was tolerable. Despite that, knowing Perry was there somewhere in the void between silence and existence, never leaving them, distracted her other half. "Come on, Dad, focus on me," she half-begged.

The most reaction Heinz gave was to return a half-lidded stare. He was too heavy to lift to his feet, so that was out of the question. Carl pushed him to his side and began undoing the sturdy knots on his straitjacket.

Perry would know how to snap him out of anything, she thought wistfully. _Perry... The fedora—use the fedora! Of course!_ She gamely found the brown hat crumpled among the strands of her distorted pockets and instantly wrapped it in her father's hands.

* * *

He was subconscious, of course. But feeling the familiar textile object brush against his fingers, Heinz painstakingly focused on the fedora that landed in his hands. It reminded him of all those times it was just him and Perry, going through a routine that gave a sort of meaning to waking up each morning, something to look forward to even as Norm spills another cup of coffee on the day's newspaper. It was more than habit, more than routine.

It was destiny.

He examined the worn features of this magical item, remembering in equally clear detail the platypus whose blue-green fur always struck awe and terror in him. He lifted his left hand to his own tangle of brown hair, and caressed the hat, wondering if its current custodian was worth its prestige. He fumbled for the goodbye note, but his hands shook too much. He moaned. Flipping it upside-down, he was astounded that _two_ slips of paper cut through the air in feather-like motion: the goodbye note indeed...and a longer letter in the same, beautiful handwriting.

_Dear Heinz, _

_Who are you? What are you doing? I never knew you to sulk, or sit still for longer than a few seconds. You always find a way to get back up and prove yourself. You are Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Nothing can stop you._

_Not even me. _

–_P_


End file.
